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Staff list has been updated with openings ready for any takers! 0.14285714285714 14.3% [ 1 ]
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An event has been posted. 0.28571428571429 28.6% [ 2 ]
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User Image
The particle of dust lifts off the ground, a breeze in the wind meeting its presence. Such a pushover, this very particle of dust, off the brick of grey. Walls fashioned between two rundown buildings, only word to call it would be an Alley. Both walls made of Marble. Smooth with slight craters, pressed into the surface of this marble brick. Buildings of 8 stories, leaving a battle between the ground and the very sun above for it's warm embrace upon the cold concrete surface. Cold and warm drafts wanders out the alley like drunk souls staggering out of the past. This alley rests in front of a street which was once home to the world of the Urban. Once. This city, upon moments unknown to those ignorant which layed around the alley's corner. Time and death, two lovers who danced on living lands, leaving it to suffer. This once eager city has fallen. The street vendors, the businessmen and pro-active women are far from this alley. The children off to play have become adults slinging their drugs around the corner, or arresting them. The riff raft running aloft are now imprisoned or moved to a better, more promising location. It is no longer the same. The city of dreams and nightmares, city of angels and demons, big apples monuments have remained to become slow and dismal. The urban city, where the present has past, where the scary are normal and beautiful are horrendous. This is the slums of time. Time, when time forgotten its own life. Time, the murderer of it all. This particle of dust flies from its current location to its home, to where time has claimed a larger life. This dust particle, moving as the tour guide, down the alley, past the starving pit bull. Down this alley, past the can of trash the sanitation department forgotten about for some odd years. Near the turn down this alley, where streaks of dried blood cannot be recognized as time removed the beautiful crimson color and left black.

"
Crimson"

Around the bend of this seemingly dismal alley leads to another path. Walls of Red brick opposing the off grey marble wall. Road of rectangle stone. A path much wider. To behold memories on this land is the sin of time. The road to the past, to the gravestone of the future. Time and death walked this road. This was once the roads of men and woman, drunks and derelicts. Fighters and murderers. Protectors of love and violators of innocence. Defenders of the weak, and lawyers. Men, woman, vampire, angel, demon, all calls of creature that none even knew existed. And somewhere, all men walked this very path down this alley. This now dead alley, where trash and stray animals live with little fear. Presence of god can be felt far away from this location, opposite end. On the edging of the red brick, a glow ever so slightly on the corner could be seen. Life, or what can only be considered life in the alley of death, could be seen.

The force of energy flowing from this emblem was slight, reluctant to let go of it's existence. The pulse generated a gentle warmth. It had eight prongs, in a circular fashion and a C in the middle, drawing a person closer and closer to and past it. Past it, to the end of this ally way there was gate; the sun broke through and illuminated the graveyard ground. At the gate, nothing would be seen under direct view, but the feeling of two shadows stood guard on either side of the gate, movement as wraiths in still positions. Eyes seemed darker than dark could ever be, light being adsorbed within the socket. On this iron steel gate lays the "C" Symbol. This was the symbol of protection. The symbol of courage and pride, where duty and enjoyment lay together easily.
This gate left a feeling of foreboding after entering, that death and peace rested past this very gate.

Lights seemed to go out as the ground was illuminated at the bottoms of the walls at their corners. These lights led to a staircase, the stairs illuminated by this light blue neon color that lit the way to a door at the top of the staircase, it was big, about five or six steps. The only thing that seemed to work here so far. The path would direct up these stairs to a large Iron cast door with the very same "C" symbol upon the front and handle. The illuminated bar of light gentle blue neon colors, generated by the establishment's very own energy source. was now dull and dark. It would seem that there was no dust upon the bar, a see-through crystal quartz. Length of 30ft. The massive array of liquor drinks and other alcoholic beverages can be seen on the quartz shelving, lit from the bottom-up. In the center of the bar was a large space which dubbed for a dance floor, illuminated by a pressure activated Blue light Near the bar stood a glowing jukebox of a multitude of elaborate neon colors flashing about to the beat of the song, the jukebox seemed to be computerized, and constantly updating with latest music to come out. All one would have to do is type the name of the band and the song on a key pad, and press enter, it was free and didn’t delay like the old fashioned jukebox’s. In the corners of the lobby floor,

There were stairs leading up and down to the below floors and the upstairs floors. Above the first floor is a dining room, it is large and Victorian like with large Gothic windows, the light illuminated the room with amber tint, and it gave off a warm quiet feeling, it was odd that this room was so quiet, because it was not only above the dance area, but it also housed the kitchen as well. There were certain time where there was a sound of plates crashing, but it was muffled to the point that it was barley audible. There was an elevator leading up to the next four levels, from here on up are rooms for when the visitors used to stay and relax after a night filled with drinking and dancing. The rooms remained there, clean, but empty. The rooms were lavishing and well planned with two rooms for each room, a living room and a bedroom, the bedroom housed a large bathroom, and the living room housed the kitchen, it was basically an apartment. The bedroom has a large queen size bed, and a large flat screen TV for those who like to watch TV in style. The bathroom was also big and the tub was like a Jacuzzi, it was round and could fit more than two people. The living room at a large couch, a love seat and two cushion chairs, they were white and arranged nicely, and made the room feel big, there were other condiments of the rooms like dining tables and such and other assortments that would fit an apartment.

Back down stairs to the dance arena, and then down to the bottom floors beneath ground level, here was a large shrine like room where dark figures would go to relax and have a smoke, this room was large and red glow with crimson like colors, cushioned seats were arranged in rows along the walls and the cent of the room, and in the back was a statue of Buddha, it was really just a calming effect, those who worshiped him were happily allowed to give prayer to him or to any other God anyone might worship. The right wall was a door leading to the lower levels of the establishment, the next lower room was arrange similar to the floor above except this room had a lot of mirrors about, one massive mirror in the back wall that covered the entire wall, and along the right wall. On the left wall was glass window traveling along the length of the wall, the room was large as well, but opposite of the glass window was a caged area, much like a zoo except with ground animals, different types of small monkey species, and other animals filled this area, lavishing plants and tree’s dazzled this area, and one could even go out and sit on the benches of this area and watch the animals prod at the fruits of the tree’s.

Back inside and go through a door and enter into the darkest room in the whole establishment aside from the dance area. This room was smaller than the above floors it housed a large aquarium that took up most of the space in the room and lit the room up in a soft blue hue. The aquarium held a multitude of species of fish, like small lime sharks and other exotic colorful sea going fish, though it seemed peaceful and the shark didn’t seem to bother the smaller fish. This room had a bar as well that stood in front of the aquarium, stools and such lining the bar, with black love seat here and there to accommodate those who didn’t like stools. The walls were black and so was every other furniture in this room, making this room darkly.

We’ll now go back up stairs to the top of the building, the roof I should say. On the roof was a large broken greenhouse that houses a multitude of exotic plants, still alive, many different plants from carnivorous to not carnivorous. Their colors ranged from pink to blue to yellow, every color imaginable it seemed these plant had. The greenhouse was humid to accommodate the tropical plants, but had lounge chairs set within the center of the greenhouse to accommodate the plant goers of the world. This was the establishment, and it was grand.

It is here where eternity existed and died. It is here where heroes and villains bared their life. Where a car once few into. Where an angel and elf once eloped. Where a small leprechaun, a being made of darkness, a giant mass of death, a warlord space marine, and dozens of other being made attempts to destroy, only to call this place a new home away from home. This was a place open to all, and united many before it fell. This was the Crimson Blood.



The Original Crimson Blood
OOC thread for OOC conversations.~~
User Image

User ImageThe Establishment:
T he Crimson Blood is a bar ran by a organization of the same name. Its group originated the Crimson Blood Freelance Protection agency, a group of allied fighters who would protect Clans, RP'ers, establishments and the such. The strongest fighters would gather and either test the will of the CB, or join the cause. On the flip side, the CB was a clan of assassins, or some would say "thugs for hire". By all means, the CB was not a group of heroes, but a hired sword.

Within these walls, the Crimson Blood does bare rules, but before those, CB must be understood.




These Doors are open for any Soul to enter, but understand the layout.

→ CB is in a city, within a alley, surrounded by buildings

→ CB is a living entity through it's own magic. The source is called "Charter". It bares it's own self defenses for mass attacks and Military advancements.

→ The Crimson Blood has a central air contamination control, able to absorb and ultimately extinguish non magical and minor magical pollutions. It is able to release a acidic gas. This is released within the establishment, harming friend and foe alike.

→ The Crimson Blood can manifest Orbs of blinding light, and climate control.

→ CB is a self repairing establishment. It's functions is to repair all damage as long as the source of "Charter" stands.

→ The CB is by no means "indestructible" and will sustain damage. If chosen, the damage can be permanent and will reflect within the overall appearance of the CB, which will be noted within the first page.


These CB defenses can be RP'ed by any member of of the CB; Authorized and listed by Crimson Blood Management. The higher in management in current RP is the manipulator of CB defenses, or acting judge. If no management is noted within RP, then for RP sakes, the building is "Defenseless", with exception of complete utter destruction. For RP'ing rights, the thread will not be deleted due to an RP'ers "destruction of the entire thread", and will be RP'ed back into existence. A note of victor will be made on first page.




[.Macabre.Soliloquy.]
Basic floor plan for the Establishment:
Upon entering the establishment you’re greeted with the view of a vast entrance hall held up by ornate pillars. In the center of the entrance hall off to the right would lay a grand staircase leading up the higher floors also accompanied by an elevator for those who would rather travel by elevator.

The remaining floor plan is as follows:

Main floor: Entrance hall, bar, dance floor.

First Floor: Amber-lit Gothic-Victorian dining room joined with the kitchen on the same level. The second part of this level is an accompanying den in the same fashion as the dining room; ornate with Gothic accents. Couches and chairs lay scattered throughout the room, walls lined from floor to ceiling with books of all kinds. At the far end of said den is a large roaring fireplace whose purpose is to keep the room dimly lit -- along with the candles and lanterns scattered about -- and protect against the colder months.

Second Floor: Residential two-room apartments. These rooms are equipped with a kitchen, living room, a bathroom featuring a multi-person Jacuzzi tub, and a bedroom graced with the presence of an elegant queen-sized bed along with the little necessities – dressers, tables, chairs, LCD TVs, surround sound, etc.

Third Floor: Residential, see above.

Fourth Floor: Residential, see above.

Fifth Floor: Residential, see above.

Sixth Floor: Highly insulated against noise to prevent the disturbance of patrons on lower floors. This room is a designated training room and/or event room for the more violent types of extravaganzas. The two-part floor features any form of equipment a merc would need to keep up to par with his profession while the second room remains vastly open with padded walls and floors with one wall being entirely made of reflective glass – you know. For the guys who like to watch themselves work.

Basement Level One: Dimly lit shrine room adorned in the deepest of reds meant for relaxing and smoking. Couches, arm chairs – all the comforts that one could ask for in a simple, yet elegant room.

Basement Level Two: Underground aquarium for the pleasure of the patrons and those who live in the establishment.

Roof: Green house full of an array of plants varying from native plants found in the United States, Tropical beauties and everything in between. Another area meant for relaxation equipped with lounge chairs, tables, etc, etc.
User Image

User ImageThe Rules:
T he Crimson Blood holds rules, as any location.

→ This is a Semi-Literate to Literate Role Playing Thread. So attempt to make it a few lines. Please note that Semi-Lit/Lit requires the following:
- Proper grammar.
- Spell check.
- Punctuation.
- Capitalization.

→ This thread is NOT PG-13, however it also isn't a porno. Keep the real raunchy stuff for your Facebook page.

→ Fancy is not needed, though it is encouraged. Make it look good.

→ Follow the AMP.

→ Killing is permitted, only if the victim okays it or acknowledged by CB Management. Outside of this thread, your business is yours, however in here your death will be RP'ed. Revival is a simple thing to RP.

→ Management and positions are available, and will be respected. Respect your boss.

→ Do not complain if I, Uriel, vanish. I do that from time to time. In my stead speaks the Executive Vice President of the organization. If she vanishes too then follow the chain of command.






No one could have done this better than a old friend of mine, Leonardo. And so, I will quote him on this.

Leonardo S. Tensatsu
"We're going to start with the basics of role play post format, and what should be running through your head when you read, or type your own posts."

1.) Analyze- "This means picking a post apart word by word, sentence by sentence. Every little meaning that a word could have, or a sentence could hint to."

2.) Summarize- "Easily put, dumb everything you analyzed down into lamest terms. If they post a paragraph about moving five feet to the right, and drawing a sword. Then sum that up in your mind, and move on to the next paragraph, or sentence."

3.) Visualize- "Once you have analyzed, and summarized the post. You should now be able to visualize every move your character, or the other character has made. Almost like playing a movie in your head. If they type four paragraphs about drawing a weapon, moving about the field, attacking, defending, or whatever. Then play this in your head, to get a better feel of the situation."

"With this in mind, the next portion I would think would be common sense. That being the Who, Where, When, What, Why, How, and to what extent. This deals directly with the three basics I described above. Those of course being what you should think upon first, and these being the second."

Who- "Who is quite simply 'who' is involved in the current roleplay fight. You obviously, your opponent, who ever is on the side lines. All these characters should be guided by the same rules listed above."

Where- "Where are all these characters located in terms of the surrounding environment, and your own character. This deals heavily with where you're fighting at. It's very important to know where all the other characters are, even if your character her/him self doesn't know where these characters are."

When- "When is one of the complicated things to consider. When governs motion, thought, and every aspect of the role play post. When does your character move in respect to the other character. When does an object move compared to other objects. When does your sword swing in comparison to your opponents sword. This sets a time frame, for which the whole fight will be paced upon."

What- "What is simple enough. What portrays 'what' is in play. Objects, energies, surroundings, people, everything. This basically is a fail safe to catch anything that might have been missed.

Why- "Why can either be simple, or the most complicated. Why governs why a character does what he/she does. Motive, justification, and purpose. These can be driving reasons to change a fighting style, or embrace emotional rampages. Why also plays in tactic. Why a character does one thing, and what they're trying to achieve. This is like trying to connect the dots, though you should always assume the end result is an attempt to harm your character whether it's portrayed or not."

How- "How should be made easy for you, depending on how well the other person describes their posts, or how you describe your own. Of course there's an art to leaving little hints out, for a surprise attack, or effect later. Though you should always be aware of 'How' everything is being done in the role play fight. How does the character move from here to there. How does he/she swing his/her sword/weapon. How, how, how, how... This might grow tiresome, though is the most important rule.

Extent- "This deals with almost everything listed above. If a character moves, how far? If a character swings a sword, how strong? If a character speaks, how loud. This should be taken into consideration especially when you are countering, attacking, or defending. "

"To make things less difficult for you, here's a short list of what these rules should apply to when you're analyzing, and applying everything I've listed above. Keep in mind also, that even if your character doesn't, or shouldn't know something. YOU should know everything you can, which will give you the edge in a role play. You personally need to take into consideration what your character can, and cant do while still knowing what could, should, or will be done."

-Bodily movement
-Effect
-Tool movement
-Mood
-Attire/armor
-Acknowledgment
-Surroundings

"For a brief lay out. Bodily movement speaks for its self, along with tool movement, surroundings, and mood. Effect is the end result of the extent. What happens when you get hit? Or what will happen when you hit your opponent. Attire, and armor is simply being aware of your opponents defenses. Acknowledgment deals with how your character is aware of her/his opponent, or the other characters lurking around."








AMP
Type of roleplayers
Oldbies: Are veterans of roleplaying. They generally know best after years of experience.

Elites: Elites are on their way to becoming Oldbies, but are still changed Literates. Elites can be recognized by their "Elites only" policy, with no lee-way whatsoever. They are generally quite cocky, think they are better, and insist on using reams and reams of detail. This can be particularly true for magic users, who are convinced that their descriptions of the traits and limits of magic are unquestionable.
(Not all Literates become Elites before they move on to Oldbies. Don't worry.)

Literates: A growing minority, literate roleplayers are just that. They use correct punctuation and grammar, and roleplay fairly. Literates often refer to, and follow, the AMP (Anti-Munch Project).

ne0 n00b: ne0s (never use a capital 'n' for them!) at first appear to be Literates. This falsehood becomes apparent after a few posts however, as they tend to break the AMP a lot, and are actually just n00bs who can spell.

n00b: (Don't use a capital 'n' for these either!) n00bs are the worst roleplayer available. A sad and terribly derogatory approach to take, but the simple fact of the matter is that they just cannot and will not roleplay fairly, even when outnumbered, outgunned, and obviously dead in character.
They will often resort to flaming, leading to eventual bans, new accounts, and new bans.

Newbie: A Newbie can at first seem to be a n00b, they can though, learn to correctly roleplay fairly and adequately. Newbies are to be encouraged and treated well, and will often grow into skilled Literates.


Anti Munch Project Terms
Aimbotters: Especially annoying when using NPCs, as NPCs don't get to argue about munch...
A: Three hundred seventy of my trained assassin gymnasts crest the hill, sight you, and rush toward you.
B: Luckily, I have three hundred sixty-nine bullets in my chain gun! I quickly mow them all down, each taking a single bullet to the head, and peg the last one with a rock in the sternum.

Godmodders: Obvious.
A: Now that you're strapped to the end of a naval cannon, I fire it.
B: Whoosh! I nimbly dodge, somehow forgetting the fact that I'm restrained by three-hundred-pound chain!

Boa Constrictors: Threads that have a long list of rules that prevent any characters except their own from roleplaying in that thread. No example will be given here, since that would be suggesting rules that shouldn't be used at all, and used separately these rules would be fine.
Boa Constrictors most commonly like to ban most forms of magic, guns, NPCs, technology, 'special' abilities etc. The result is, as I said, a thread in which very few characters can venture.
More recently, a favorite among Boas is to restrict character appearance to avatar appearance, and thus limit looks and powers to fire, ice, light, dark, angelic, and demonic.
I do emphasize that threads should have whichever rules they want, within fairness to other roleplayers. Lists of rules which prevent too much are too, let's face it, n00bish.
[Suggested by oxymoron_02]

IDKFA-ers: Most likely people attempting to emulate Solid Snake or some other cheesy spy-novel hero.
A: You're all out of ammo for all five of your Ingram submachine guns, 501!|). Since you're buck-naked, I know I can now safely step into the open and begin returning fire.
B: Ha! Little did you know, I have twelve shuriken hidden within my pubic hair!

Twinks: Sometimes allowed in certain RPs. If the RP isn't specifically about invincible deities and such, a simple rule is that if the strengths aren't counterbalanced with relatively equivalent weaknesses (or if the reasoning behind the phenomenal cosmic powers isn't eloquently and appropriately explained), you're dealing with a twink.
A: A punch coming, eh? Well, seeing as you're a seven-year-old child and I'm riding in a twenty-meter mecha, I won't bother dodging.
B: Fooled you! I have the power to DESTROY EVERYTHING when I punch it! I'm just like an X-Man, and therefore require you to suspend all logic when RPing with me! Oh, and I have the power to steal your girlfriend, too.

Min-maxers: Not a lot of those running around here, thank goodness... that's more of a DnD-style paper game issue.
A: I've successfully broken into the facility which gave you your incredibly 1337 power armor. Now I pull up the file on it. What does it say about weak points?
B: The metal of my armor is... um... allergic to praying mantis urine.

Miss Cleos: Obvious.
A: ((OOC: There's a secret switch hidden in the lamp.))
B: I suddenly think to myself-- why not check the lamp for hidden switches? Call me now for your free reading!

McFlys: An all-too-common menace.
A: Ha! Now that the force field is down, I run inside your evil lair!
B: Um... um... there's also a super-secret second force field which causes you to die instantly! I just didn't say anything about it because... um... I had to do my laundry! Not because I just thought of it now! Honestly!

Hi-jackers: These are intensely annoying for thread creators. They are often members of that thread, also. [Suggested by oxymoron_02]
A: Ok! Our base is under attack and we have to defend it!
B: *Goes and activates the base's self destruct* Everybody run you have three minutes!

Puppetmasters: Another overly common occurrence.
A: I step carefully into the room, peering around for occupants.
B: Suddenly a dragon pokes you in the eye. You run screaming from the room, whereafter you go home, make a pickle sandwich, and call your mother to cry about how she ruined your life.

Daydreamers: Not exactly munch, per se, but it does get annoying.
A: In the middle of the intense shootout, I dash across the narrow alley, ducking and weaving in hopes to avoid getting hit. I'm unsuccessful; two bullets peg me in the shoulder, throwing me back into a Dumpster.
B: The bullets make me think back to my days as a youth, when I had to melt down tin soldiers to use as musket balls against the Redcoats... or was it redskins? I can't remember. Anyway, I had to walk uphill all three ways to school and back, running from glaciers all the while. It was torture, lemme tell ya. And then there's the story of how I met my first wife...

Prosecutors: People who claim every one else is Munching when they are the only one who is. [Thought of by Asmodeus The Crow]
A: I, a powerful fire mage, cast a combustion spell at the tree you are in. Thus setting a large portion of the tree on fire.
B: I think about what to do, jump off the tree or run down it. I choose run down the tree through the fire, but I don't catch on fire.
A: ((That doens't make sense...))
B: ((Oh, but it does! The fire couldn't have spread fast on that dry old tree. It was still a small fire and it was just god-modding to make itself big!))

Shoe elves: Pretty obvious.
A: ((OOC: Well, gotta go to bed. Big neurosurgery test tomorrow.))
B: Ho, ho, ho! Now that the loser's gone to bed, I can strap his character to a cross and peg him with rotten fruit!

Revisionists: Another prevalent problem.
A: You chose the blue pill? Ooh, tough luck.
B: Red! I said red!
Don't go pulling that "I can read your previous post" mind game crap, either!

Speedhackers: One of the worst we have to deal with.
A: I walk to the door and step outside.
B: Suddenly, twelve men grab you, carry you off to my secret lair in Tibet, and torture you for weeks. When you finally die from the agony, we bury you in the frozen wastes. Hundreds of years later, archaeologists discover your frozen body and try to determine if you're another Lucy.

Oxymorons: Luckily rare.
A: I'm a farmer with a shotgun.
B: I'm a black hole which emits blinding pulses of visible light!
(For those of you not familiar with physics, black holes allow nothing out of their immense gravity. Not even light can escape.)

Baghdad Bobbits: An advanced (or is that "degraded"?) form of Puppetmaster and Aimbotter combined.
A: I fire at the stationary target, hitting twice but missing with my remaining four rounds.
B: I get tired of your realistic RPing style and poke you in the neck, collapsing your trachea. You die writhing in torment.

Hives: So named after such things as the xenomorphs from Aliens, the Klendathu bugs from Starship Troopers, and the teeming hordes they generally are. These hordes are always fearless, will battle until dead, and quite often have some excessive weapons and/or armor.
Basically, it's the guys who have too many NPCs. [Suggested by oxymoron_02]
A: *He sat alone in his one-man fighter ship, quickly scanning the radar for hostiles*
B: *He sat aboard his giant flagship, with his other 1000 ships around him. He ordered them all to attack the tiny fighter in front of them."

Gaseous Snakes: An advanced (or is that "dumb"?) form of McFlys.
A: I walk to the door and open it.
B: Being a fellow with a bit of foresight, I hooked that doorknob to a car battery an hour ago. You're thrown across the room.

Augustines: Far, far too prevalent.
A: Given that this RP's technology base is medieval, I happily drive my cart to the market to buy some maggot-ridden meat.
B: Too late! I already got there in my Gundam and blew up everything with my insanely overpowered weapons! And don't start whining, because my Gundam's already pre-approved in the "This Is Not a Medieval Technology Base RP" thread.

Ironclad Sentinels: This is fast becoming a problem, and refers to when a thread's subject organization/corporation/military has too many defenses, or defenses that are unrealistically powerful or just plain 'modey. [This AMP suggestion created by kodachi3]
A: I am attacking with a battalion of thirty tanks, air support of twenty gun-ships, and three submarines off the coast with Tomahawk cruise missiles.
B: Defenses - Forcefield that blocks everything but lets our weapons out, invisibility shield around the base, 100 SAM turrets, 100 machine gun turrets, 1000 guards with machine guns, 200 space fighters, 200 tanks.

Batmen: Only a few, but they're a b***h to deal with.
A: In this Fantastic Four RP, I'll be Ben, the gruff rock-man with a heart of gold.
B: I'll be Reed Richards, the living sex toy who hunts down innocent women to subdue with his incredible flexibility!

Zoicite: The people who alter their character as needed for the situation.
Example: They can turn from an angel to a demon to a dragon to a gundam pilot to a janitor to a literal fly-on-the-wall to an ogre magi to the sacred holder of that important plot element that they need to do what they want.

NIMBY: The people who quite readily attack others' threads, but then stop all attacks on their own thread.
A: They attacked us! Let's go and get them!
B: Our base is protected by three forcefields, giant laser guns, automated robots with plasma guns, and a barrier blocking all weapons and magic!
-OR-
A: They attacked us! Let's go and get them!
B: *Deletes any posts related to an attack*

Trinity: The knowledge downloaders, the omniscience wizards.
A: My character was raised by a gang leader in the harsh conditions of a slum. From this, he learned to wield small firearms fairly effectively and has limited driving abilities.
B: My character was born on a remote jungle island and can fly or drive anything and use any gun with perfect aim.

Quakers: They can magically 'spawn' anything.
A: My character is wearing a form of armor only vulnerable to a drop of water from a holy well in South Dakota.
B: *He pulls out the vial of water from a holy well in South Dakota* "I don't know why I always carried this, but I knew it would come in useful one day."
User Image

User ImageThe Staff:

Staff of Crimson Blood: Corperate


Corperate Executive Oficer and President/Owner of Crimson Blood: Uriel DeBast

Executive Vice President: Lilianna Chevalier-DeBast

Senior Vice President / General Manager:

Manager(s):




Supervisor: Carnival Crii






Staff of Crimson Blood:

Operations/Entry Level.

Bar Manager:

Bartenders:
Kai/Kaya



Kitchen Manager:

Chefs/Kitchen Attendants:




Security Manager:

Bouncers:




Medical Division High Overseer: Lilianna Chevalier-DeBast

Estate Healers/Medics:




Fight Judges:






Hands for Hire:

Fighting Division High Overseer: Varan Zharkov


These positions will require a brief example of what you're capable of as a fighter along with a synopsis of your character. Remember that this is an
application for becoming a fighter. You're abilities may even be tested if management sees it fit to do so. More fun for you, right?

A generic character outline is as follows:


[.Macabre.Soliloquy.]
Name:
Age:
Race:
Height:
Weight:
Personality:
Physical Appearance:
Special Abilities:
History:

Position Desired:

Assassin, Mage, Gunman, Swordsman, etc, etc.
Role Play Example:


Seeing as to how this is a Semi-Literate to Literate thread a minimum of three lines in required for each of the "in depth" aspects of your character outline. Show us how good you are by explaining your character's appearance instead of simply using a picture. Type out a sensible background story not the generic, "Orphaned at a young age my character has a dark past and a shattered memory that only allows him/her to remember small pieces here and there." We've all seen that before. Get creative! Make your character interesting!

Please send your application via PM to both our Executive Vice President, Lilianna, as well as our Fighting Division High Overseer, Varan. They'll get back to you as soon as possible in regards to your application.


Here's the Vice President's character outline as an example for those who are struggling with what we're looking for:

[.Macabre.Soliloquy.]
Name: Lilianna Atlas Chevalier-DeBast.

Age: Her appearance is that of a twenty-three year old young woman, though her age is limitless.

Race: Liberi Fatali; A Child of Fate. Legend has it the Children of fate where those who began the branches of what we now know as the supernatural world.

Height: Roughly 5’1”.

Weight: Roughly 110lbs.

Personality:
_______A wide array of emotions play a part in the girl’s overall behavior. Typically she is found in very calm, serene moods. Anger plays little role within her life for her temperament really doesn’t call for negative emotions; not to mention to get the girl angry is a feat in itself. Accepting would be one of the best ways to explain her, never frowning upon anything no matter the circumstances unless her own set of morals tell her otherwise. Kind hearted and generous, open armed and supportive. Although always calm, she constantly has a craving to cuddle and hold some form of physical contact with another being [that to be later explained within her history]. Playful to an extent, the girl’s main personality flaw would be how instinctual she becomes if angered.Though anger is an emotion that doesn't play much of a role in her life upon being angered caution, logic, and reason get instantly thrown to the wind replaced with rash actions and lack of thinking before anything she does. On a usual basis, though, her demeanor tends to be a bit more leading; that of a peacemaker in a way.

Physical Appearance:
_______Standing at 5’1” the small figure of the girl leaves a bit to desire in the range of height. Her overall complexion is pale, the only physical object in comparison to her pale features being the pale colour of ivory. Golden irises adorn the maiden’s eyes as soft cheek bones lift her face. Pale pink, supple lips grace the girl’s as well as a light pink-ish hue upon her cheeks to grant her over all white appearance some form of colour. Onyx hair, several tendrils coming down at a slant over her right eye – usually in a form of disarray; soft to the touch and silken to the eye whereas the remaining locks of thick dark hair being worn in spirals; natural curls free-flowing along her lengths. Although the overall features upon the girl would be deemed to resemble perfection, some flaws are evident upon further inspection. Across her back lay a deep set, pink puckered scar which stretches from the center of her back down journeying in a right-way path along her body, the tip of the scar coming to curl ‘round just above her right hip bone -- right where the meaty flesh would begin. Along with the dark, most outstanding scar lay small scattered smaller ones, as if she had been whipped repeatedly over the years of her youth before time and aging no longer played a role in her existence. Lining the lower rim of her shoulder blades would also bear scars, though these being different than the others. Perfect semi-circles as if wings were to sprout from that very same spot, thinner and much less pink that the others around them. Some other distinguishing features upon the femme’s form would be the primitive, faded tattoos upon her wrist. Across the girl’s left wrist lay the word “Abomination” while across the right wrist lay the word “Atonement”, both seemingly faded and the words broken in some letters due to the age of the ink beneath her skin.

Hobbies:
_______Over time Lily grew fond of music, finding that it was and would always be a constant in her life. To show her respect to the one constant that never abandoned her she taught herself how to play the violin and the piano, amongst an array of different instruments which rarely, if ever, are graced with her attention. Along with her love of music comes the love of stories and poetry. When growing up storytelling was one of the only means of entertainment aside from romping, and through that, the tradition was passed down to her and has remained that way over the years; verbally entertaining through tales of the heroic deeds of heroes and normal humans alike.

Position Desired: Executive Vice President/Medicinal Overseer.

History; “Children of Fate”:
_______Based on Greek mythology, Liberi Fatali, or the Children of Fate, were those children produced from the unholy union of a God and a human or a God and one of the Fae. Those born into this life under the given circumstances age slowly, their bodies remaining to appear youthful and young, and stop aging all together in their late teens to early twenties. Most, by that point, do not hold many of the characteristics needed to be suited as a full grown adult in today’s world. It has come to pass that the Children of Fate are born into families of great poverty, living the beginning stages of life under harsh conditions; many born into families stricken with enslavement or born into families of peasants. Due to being born from the union of a God and a mortal, these children were seen as Demi-Gods, awakening to their powers at young ages if not once completely matured. Legend came to pass that said children were immortal, and to bathe in their blood would grant the person immortal life as well. Gradually the stories of these children began to be told ’round campfires and to scare little children into behaving, though more and more words that were seen as fiction became factual. Large rewards were offered for those who could capture a child of fate and bring them back to the one posting the reward; the rumors of immortality and great power from the exploitation of these children being one of high regard. And as time passed the majority of half god, half human children were killed off, where the half god, half Fae were mostly sheltered, kept away from the greed of mortality. Legend says that only eight of Zeus’ children still survive scattered across the globe.

History; Lilianna:
_______1100 years before the birth of Christ the Greek peoples began to build their Empire, beginning it’s ascent through the dark ages. Small villages sprouted up around a main capital, villages forming into towns and so on as time progressed. Born into a peasant family, her mother was seen as crazy for her unrealistic stories of laying with the God Zeus and bearing her fifth daughter from his seed: Accalia Zenna meaning Accalia of Zeus to proclaim her bloodlines to the Gods. The girl would quickly be whisked away at the age of five, sold by her family as a slave to the owner of a larger estate to work in the household before she reached the proper age to work in the fields, if that’s what her initial plan was. Not long after she was sold it came to be known that, stricken with grief, Accalia’s mother took her own life for the loss of her most unique child. As most children living in enslavement, punishment for slacking on the job ranged from an array of different manners; the most popular being lack of food or a swift whipping. From the smallest of mistakes such as spilling a drop of wine, to larger ones, waking up late, the girl would undergo constant whippings to be taught the lessons she must learn. Though an unfortunate aspect of her life would be that her new-found master was not one of normal mindedness. Through the years he gradually became more and more sadistic, taking out punishments were they weren’t necessary and increasing the severity of said punishments. From branding to death, many of the household workers fell from the face of the earth, not being able to bear the harshness of their living environments any longer. One evening, when being permitted to go to bed, Accalia’s master found her meandering the halls to her quarters. This act of wandering was seen as a deed fit to be punished, and as punishment he ordered for the girl’s wrists to have ink embedded under the skin spelling out the words “Abomination” and “Atonement”. An allergic reaction to the ink used caused her to be useless for the next few days, though gradually getting better, she returned to her work.

_______Years passed of the same treatment, pain and suffering being encompassed by unbearable working conditions keeping the girl’s energy at bay. Dreams of the Gods playing in her mind whenever sleep was allowed, telling her of stories that the old women from the fields would whisper to the children to keep them behaving whisking through her mind. At the age of fifteen, the girl noticed that her body didn’t match those of the other girls she was roomed with; being much smaller and far more child-like than the gradually maturing young women around her. These dreams and stories slowly began to take root, to make sense. Her mother’s lunacy becoming more of fact than fiction in her eyes. And as such thoughts played through her head; the more she began to think that she, as well, was going crazy as her mother had. The crop failed that year, the master taking it out on the field attendants as well as the household workers. Punishments were dealt out with more ferocity than before. Gradually the need for freedom took hold of her heart. One night, once all were asleep, her and a few other adolescents in her wing decided that it was their time, that they either had to escape or forever be trapped in the hell hole they were. Their flight ended in the loss of many, the youth she had grown up with falling dead to the ground from a greatly unnecessary barrage of arrows which were shot to the sky at the knowledge of the escaping children. Those who made it safe away from the manor traveled far and wide, starting anew elsewhere and making something of their lives for whatever time they had left.

_______Though the more time flew, the more the girl noticed through her wanderings that she wasn’t like the rest that she had grown up with. Her mother wasn’t crazy in her ranting of lying with the God of Gods himself. Powers manifested themselves as she slept, granting her troubles during the waking hours to keep herself in check. She never aged, she never changed. Her knowledge grew with the centuries, watching the birth and death of Christ along with the upbringing of his religion and the death of the polytheistic Rome. And through this death did she begin to learn of her siblings and of the fate that many of them had fallen to. Once watching the rise and fall of her home city, the girl would gradually begin wandering through Europe, learning what was to be learned and watching from the background the interactions of others and the rest of their kind. She eventually found her way to France, settling down finally for the first time since her youth. To celebrate her new beginning she would take on a new name, Lilianna Atlas Chevalier, and begin her new life as a noble, working her way through the background of Courts to keep herself from gaining too much attention; continuing her life from that point out alone. Very rarely would she take on a lover to keep some form of company, though never would it last for fear of the secret once more getting out.

_______Legend has it that the children of fate where the beginning implementation of the world we now know as the "supernatural." The gifts given to Lilianna from her mother's fated night with a God would seem more like a curse to her than anything else. Every time the moon reaches it's full stage she's cursed into a painful transformation from girl to wolf. Some would know it as Lycanthropy. Though she wasn't the first to be born with this curse, she is closely tied to the originals.


Our EVP tends to be a bit of an over-achiever on a dull day, so don't see this as something you need compare to. This is just an example of to give you guys some ideas.

A character synopsis is not required to join the Roleplay. However, if you'd like to post yours before your entrance so that others in the establishment will get a better idea of your character, go right ahead.

Though this is an establishment, this is also a bar and a place to sit back and relax. Have fun while you're here. Have a drink and be merry!
And remember;
You're always welcome here at the

Crimson Blood.







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User ImageAnnouncements:

12/19/2012 Due to unforeseen circumstances I'll be taking a leave of absence. In my stead the Executive Vice President will hold my rank until my return. She speaks with my authority and my full trust. If anyone has any questions please send a message to Lilianna. This also includes character outlines requesting a place amongst our ranks and fighters.

12/19/2012 Establishments wanting us to host their banner on our front page: Please send a PM with the link to your banner to Lilianna and she'll send you one with our banner as well.
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User ImageTournaments and Upcoming Events:

Events:

» Due to the holiday season the Crimson Blood will be hosting a Christmas get-together on the 24th through the 29th for any of those who are able to attend. This get together will consist of merry making in the thread along with gift exchange if any of you see it fit. Come in and join the celebrations!

Tournaments:

To be announced.
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⊰ T h e . B l a c k . C h e r r y ⊱ A Brawlers Bar & Inn

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User ImageStep by step, a wonder was made. By spit of devil, tear of god, curse of man was created. An evil wonder, the beautiful death itself need not know its own wonder. A wonder, birthed by Sin, did exist on the doorsteps. Its goal was to return home to a place it not knows exist. Only hope, only fear, only love and faith did this evil wonder travels to a door, with prayers that the unknown would be known, the gamble that is life, paving the way. A all too humane thought, running through life in hopes that we go where other humans say we go, only root to thought was spoken by another human. Life, a mystery only given birthed by those of imagination, held a miracle that steadily grew to a mistake. A mistake of the devil. Mistake of demon. Mistake of god. A mistake that proves the perfect are indeed imperfect, and everything is not in a major unseen plan, but led on by deaf hope, and blind faith. On these stairs that do or do not exist, on this doorstep that might or might not be there, existed the greatest miracle imagination could have ever hoped to produce. An imagination that knew no bounds, and knew not the error of his or her own way. Oh god, what is it that you have done?

Curse these lands when the dead arises, and not know when death cannot hold its own prisoner. Damn the lands that allow one such as him, the loved, the hated, the dear and dreaded, the powerfully weak, this being who knows not to remain gone. Time has made its dent within the lands, within this city, within the crimson blood. Time left its mark like a sloppy vampire on the neck of these walls. Time has left its stain like the woman raped in the corner alley, left to live with scars that cannot be healed by any medication but death. Time has left its curse on these floors like the fallen belief of Christianity, self aware of its own destruction, but unable to leave its own path. Time has done its order to the building this very dead man called home. Home... a word that has lost meaning. Home, love, friendship, companion, faith, peace, trust, belief, happiness... all words that were replaced by loneliness and time. Loneliness and time, two elements that never left Uriel on his pain-stakend trip in and out of life. In and out of pain. In and out of their memories... His dead and living feet trace dirt upon the floor as the following body makes its way to this "home". Why has he arrived? A place that was no longer in his memory has returned...

His body stands mere feet from the very door of the Crimson Blood. His body baring the same blood soaked cloth that covered his bottom portion of his face. Fabric of unknown material bared on his skin, thinned armor that traveled with him through the doors of life and death. Eyes that bared no love of life, only empty confusion. An alien feeling: the sudden increased weight on his left side. An arm?

His body returned with the machine that was once called his arm. To walk through death's lands with no weapon and one arm was a cruel joke implemented by forces unknown, but it was this force that gave him a reason to be who he is now. But who is he? The left mechanical arm moves in the direction he tells it to, as if it was never gone. His weapons must still be inside, to where he left it. Feeling has returned to Uriel, and drops to knees as pain, forgotten pain, and physical pain shoots through him. A scream is held back, imprisoned by hatred of showing weakness. The pain is great... tears leave the golden eye sockets... tears? Bodily functions are resuming...

Moments past before the risen Uriel rises from the ground, and places the right palm on the door. The feeling throws a bombardment of energy through his body. Chi. Chakra. Charter. Memories... all of it. The songs of man play in his heart. The hymn of angels can be heard in very far distances, but dies instantly. An angel Uriel was no longer. Not evil. Not good. Just existence...

A small nudge, and the door creaks open. Life is felt on the other side of the door. Memories play tricks as this building was full with old friends. As heat rising from the summer street, the images sway in and out, as past left the present. Time: never one to leave without a memory. But in present, there seems to be people here. Two individuals, two figures that bared a form of life. It has been too long since life as seen. For what reason was Uriel summoned here?

"Or was I even summoned in the first place?"

The left foot, followed by the right, and process continued to the direction behind the bar. Many moments Uriel and Time spent here. Company, stories, drinks and enjoyment... Enjoyment? Fun? Hand grazing the surface of the bar, the bar was resonating to the touch. The touch of its creator. The maker, the singer. Uriel, God of Crimson Blood, has returned. The left arm reached down, under the tap, gripping the belt and sheath that held his weapons. Slowly, his flesh and steal hands tightened the strap around the waist, eyes closed. As his eyes began to open and looked to the two individuals, Uriel did something he hasn't done since he left.

He breathes.
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User ImageUriel took to the bar, feeling the memroies that ran beneath the surface. Stains that bared drinks made for many patrons. His leather seat for the mixologist for rest on slower nights. His sights turned to the bar shelf behind him, looking to the expired liquor bottles. The old fashioned register that rested at the end of the bar. Times that took him to great distances in the world of memory. Love of kinship and friends brought him the first smile he felt in a long time. The decision to bring the Crimson Blood back to operations took over.

His hand traveled to the clipboard and pen that rested near the bottle of absolut, and began to take inventory of bottles that had expired, and ones that grew with age. His hand worked slow, remembering how to write. Bottles of gin. Whisky. Vodka. Rum. the count began as marks were made on the sheet, held down on the clipboard. The lights illuminated the glass which in turn, lit up the bottles. To the left, a large black bag was obtained and opened wide enough to hold the soon-to-be contents. The opened bottles were discarded, save for some of the otherworldly liquors that never bared an expiration date, some even of his own creations. Bottles of blood infused liquor remained as fresh as the day it was made, the wonder of modern medicine. Placing bottle after bottle in the large black trash bag, the sound of glass clanking against eachother echoed against the walls. A simple tie to close the bag, and the process repeats with another bag.

Three trash bags in, and the bar was two-thirds emptied. Uriel lugged the three bags over his shoulder and began to walk to the back door, passed the dance floor. Upon the way, he approached the juke box, The queen of the Damned soundtrack was played at a low reasonable volume. He felt the energy within the Crimson Blood walls resonate to the music, a mood that gave ease, with a little bloodthirst. His legs took him to the back door, and exited the establishment to the large garbage bin that held rubble from the large train graveyard in the back. Three bags deposited within the trash, and Uriel reentered the building via the back door.

He walked back to the main floor, and looked to the bar. Two thirds of his supply was gone, it was time to restock.

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User ImageUriel awoken from his sleep in a haze, nodding off on the couch. The cellphone on the floor, begging for battery life, holds evidence of a few calls made. Raising up from the prone position he was in, he took a stretch and picked up his phone, placing in his pouch. His body sore from the positioning, it took him a moment to get to the door, which apparently was the source of his awakening. A newport 100 and a zippo lighter was produced from the pouch, and burned with a sizzle. The door was opened, a man with a pull wagon that held many boxes rolled in. The delivery for the liquor came in, and not a night too soon. Uriel gave the man the space to do his job, as he prepared the bar shelf for restocking.

After some moments time, the refreshed bar looked better than ever. New drinks never seen before stood before him, as well as old favorites. A cigarette was produced, fire blaring upon the ip. Ash leaving the front, to grace the bar's surface. Ash that vanished with no warning. The bar's tap was plugged with new Kegs, and the pressure system was adjusted to the new imports, making sure that it would fizz up just right. The door rings yet again, and once again, another delivery. Food.

Uriel points the men upstairs to the kitchen area. As the men stock the enormous freezers with the new rations, Uriel took to re arranging the tavern area. Tables moved, decorations replaced, hours of fixing up the location to current times.

Hours later, a restock, two more deliveries of food and oil, and the Crimson Blood is ready. Though doubtful Patrons would come again, it was a home for him. Maybe sometime soon, he will venture downstairs and check on the other rooms.
Nyx Hemera's avatar

Eloquent Lunatic

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Deep within the shadows, silhouetted by the dim lights and moon, the cloaked figure stepped out into view. The black silken hood pulled up over her head, casting a shadow across her pale features. What areas could have been revealed, one cold see pale scars scattered across the pale features of the young woman's body. Her neck was riddled with scars, scars scattered across her face as well. Each varied between new and old, some pale with age and others a light pink. A thin scar ran across her lip, another across her left eye and down her cheek. She had been pretty, once and thus was the beginning of those scars. Her father, the false god of chains, had been envious of the child's beauty. Seeking to destroy even his own creations. For her eighteenth birthday, her fathers gift was a chain noose, dropping her over the side of the abyss to dangle and choke within the dark. When she was twelve, her father had set her black tawny wings aflame, forever scorched and ruined. Her body forever fueled by her anger and pain, fighting would have been little an option. She had hung there for a month, not able to climb her way up, not able to die. The thick chain link scar around her neck a reminder.

Walking toward the establishment, her prism eyes reflecting whatever colors the light would allow. Various shades of blues, green, yellows, even hues of purple and scarlet. Approaching still partially shrouded in shadow, the only sound coming from her that of her belted chained boots and the rustle of her clothing. Standing in front of the door, the woman would barely move, her arms remaining under the cloak. With her right foot, she would tap the bottom of the door three times and wait for a reply from within. Making no move to remove her hood or shake off some of the cloak, she stood motionless at the door step of the Crimson Blood. Listening to the whispers and stories of this new home. Carnival had returned from the realm of chains, not particularly pleased.
syorukyra's avatar

Distinct Genius

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Night was his favorite time to venture out of his isolated house. It was the perfect time to hunt pretty things and anything else that caught his interest. He'd caught wind of a respectable place that attracted just the sort of toys he was after. A pierced tongue flicked out past equally decorated full lips, in the form of a single labret piercing, to taste the air. Cold, not too cold, somewhere in the middle. It was the sort of weather to be flipped a birdie and borne with a grudging humor.

Kai Velgreed had come out to play. Dust rose minimally from his silent steps, long coat well above his ankles even in a pair of high-topped leather boots, laced neatly. Eyes the color of human riches, an iridescent gold appeared beneath the black viel hung from a wide brimmed fedora. Another body up the path. He kept his even pace; the soft jingle of the single thin silver chain linked between the piercing adorning his lips and the shell of his left ear.

He made wide room for both practical reasons and simple self-preservation around the other being in his vicinity, making no move to address the person. They were here first after all. He took his place behind, a few lengths behind, understanding the entrance was closed. The sense of waiting was already creeping with a tinge of stupidity. One black gloved hand, slipped into his longcoat, fiddling with the contents of his pocket.
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User ImageUriel took to the movement that appeared within his slumber on the bar. Two individuals, none he was too sure about knowing. Memory brings harsh truths, and the lack of such can be even harsher. His demeanor would seem to be intimidating to anyone who didn't know him, but it wasn't out of any hostile intentions. This world...

"This world isn't one that we should live in.." He said to the armored man, fresh blood covered the crest. The silver armor, crest of a slayed griffin. The Emonum, a blood thirsty clan, known for so much destruction. The two stand among the hundreds of thousand dead bodies, stainign the green grass a deep crimson. "This world should be purged in the holy fires, and sin would once again be a memory, but it isn't something that I can do with my own hands. If murder is a sin, would not the killing of all, be too, a sin?" The armored man turned to the assassin, as if he were but a child. He spoke, voice of deep, and evil. "I care not of sin. I care only for the act. I'd kill the world, if not for the fear of having no one else to kill"

Uriel's knife slipped in his back, severing the spinal cord. The armor of the..


Uriel's mind snaps back to the present, and looks to the two patrons. One, a female standing beyond the door. His Kuriryougan eye saw beyond the door, and the emotion that ran deep beyond the cloak. His heart remembers that feeling; not from this woman, but something in his past. The hurt. The anger. Maybe revenge at some point. If it was her emotions that brought her to this establishment, then she couldn't have come to the right place. His heart wanted her to find solice in this haven, and as if the establishment was waiting for his emotional command, the door opened for her. The Crimson Blood Beckoned her to come in.

The second person, however, appealed to the darkness in Uriel. A eager feeling, something that Uriel forgotten existed. His arm throbbed to the potiental darkness this second individual gave. His killer instinct wanted to challenge this man, but not for a victory. Not even challenge, embrace his darkness with a welcome. All was welcome within the Crimson Blood, light and dark. Though, sometimes, Crimson Blood brings in more dark than light. Could be the location. Need to check on that.

Uriel looked to the two, and figured that a strong drink might be needed. Two Black glasses were placed on the bar, empty, waiting for a liquid to feel it.

"Welcome to the Crimson Blood. Drinks on me."

Nyx Hemera's avatar

Eloquent Lunatic

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The scent of another caught in her nose, causing her gaze to shift through the darkness of her hood as if peering through the dark and watching the male behind her, cautiously. However, a great sigh seemed to resonate from the building as the doors began to crack open, waiting for them to open fully before stepping into the dimly light establishment that had once been the mistress' home. Things were different, however some things were as the day they were left. She studied them carefully, aware that some things were not quite what they seemed. Her gaze then cast back toward Uriel, looking at him through the shadows of her hood.

With a gentle sweep of her shoulders, the hood would have dropped to rest upon the slender slopes. Revealing the woman beneath. Her eyes reflected the colors within the room, variations of the color spectrum including new colors one had never seen. Blues, hues of scarlet or emerald, all swirled like specs within her irises. She would have been pretty, if not for the long scar across her left eye, the long thin scar across her top and bottom lip and the thick, solid scar of a chain that long since been her noose. Her face and body was riddled with scars, some long since healed and others had looked fresh. Most had looked like slash marks, stab wounds and a goo percentage of burns to her wings and arms. It didn't seem to phase her or hinder her movements, but the often time someone stared too long resulted in their eyes being plucked out and served to them in a martini of their own bile. She had felt uneasy, however she was a confident and independent person, being in a place that reminded her of so little and so much, she wasn't sure. And thus, the unknown feeling had annoyed her, like a buzzing little fly.

When she spoke, her tone was smooth, like poison tainted honey. She wasn't trying to be rude or insulting, her tone was just like that. As if she were bitter or angry about a lot of things and it rubbed off in the way she held herself. However, as she spoke, a thin smirk rose from the corner of her mouth as a small snicker came from her throat.

"On you, eh, Uri?"

Raising her chin a fraction, allowing the lighting of the room to change her eyes to a more... remember able color. Those rainbow hues swirled until the colors had adjusted themselves to a light, icy blue. Mixed within those blue irises stood black slashes, little bits of shadow waiting to get through.

"Well.... I'm waiting."
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User ImageA flicker in his eyes, the one golden cat eye staring into this woman, yet...

Uri...

"Uri?" She called to him a few times, bathed in white. Peddles danced into the window of their paradise, hidden in the clouds of nowhere. Her voice as soft only an elf could speak. She beckoned for him to enter their beautiful home. His body, filled with love and admiration in hopes this paradise would never leave. His lips embraces the elf, her body enwrapped in his arms. She says words soothing to his very soul. "Uri, I L..."

She said she was waiting... What was she Waiting... oh. Drinks. His Eye caught her face, riddled with scars. A pain in his heart shows remorse. Long are the days since these wounds could be healed by his very own hands. Potions lay downstairs that would be able to help, but not remove these scars. The scars... in attempts to ruin such a beautiful face. But the Black eye sees the beauty of this individual. Her scent, though rough and delicate, has a small familiarity to it. Could it be that at some point in time, this woman could have been known? Not so sure. Need to look at old photo albums later.

"Ah, I am sorry love. I take it you would like a drink." His bar shelves had been restocked fully the night before, and with a new selection, it would seem his knowledge of some spirits are in need of an update. But, this woman didn't select one. Maybe... something strong and dark. Maybe a dark gin with a shot of Black Berry. Nah... Rasberry. A little sweet, but not too much.

"Well, let's see if you like this". He took a aged Gin, dark amber in color, and poured it in a silver mix cup. He then took a small vial of Rasberry liquor flavoring and poured a teaspoon in it. Finally, poured the contents over a cup of ice, and removed the liquid from the glass of ice into her cup. The Rasberry gin, slightly chilled, rested in her glass, waiting for her lips.

"Try it, my dear".

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